Page 20 of Jealous Stalker

Ella x

I read the note a dozen times, then a dozen more. I return to her room and my eyes dart from the paper to her sleeping form. That little x makes my heart sprint dangerously fast in my chest. Then I eye the pillow. The bed. Her slight form beneath the covers.

There are better ways to show her I exist. Hell, she has evidence of it with the phone game she played last night. Did she not believe it?

I stare at that empty space again.

It calls to me.

And fuck, I would give my right arm just for one minute next to her.

Before I know it my feet propel me there. Above or under? Above is safest. But…fuck it. I hold my breath as I lift the covers just enough to make room for myself. Gently so I don’t disturb her, I lay down next to her. My whole body is as tenseas mummified concrete and I hold my breath, waiting for her to wake. See me. Scream her head off.

But Ella, sweet, sweet Ella, continues to be dead to the world.

I would worry if I didn’t plan on keeping her safe from every fucker who even looks at her funny. I would worry a lot. But I also think she has enough of an instinct to know I don’t mean her harm so she’s okay sleeping through me seeing and reading her note.

Her breath ruffles in a heavy exhale and she moves, drawing down her arm to toss it over her flat belly.

The move plumps her large tits together.

A thick shudder moves through me when my eyes drop from her slightly parted lips to the sweet mound of her breast. I see the faint outline of her nipple against her thin shirt and heat floods my body.

No way in fucking hell am I falling asleep when this magnificent vision is a mere three feet away. Rest? What rest?

My cock is hard enough to drill steel walls, and my crown is still leaking like a fucking faulty faucet.

All it will take is two, three pumps to gush like a firehose but I don’t reach for it. For one, I’ve never been able to stop myself from roaring her name whenever I jack myself off to the vision of her face and body. And being this close, smelling her blueberries shampoo and flowers scent on the pillows? I’ll wake the whole fucking neighbourhood the second I reach for my engorged cock.

I watch her until her eyelids flutter. Until she starts to go restless.

I hold my breath, but she doesn’t leave the bed or wake.

Three minutes turn into five. Ten. Fifteen.

After twenty, excruciating, beautiful minutes, I force myself to get up. To snag the same pen she probably used to write from her desk, then quickly scribble.

You look so pretty asleep, princess.

So fucking peaceful.

Just the way you’re supposed to look

with your protector, ME, looking after you.

But this a dangerous invitation, Ella.

You don’t want to meet me in real life.

So don’t do this again.

I hesitate for a minute, grimace, the pen poised above the paper. Then add the last necessary word.

Please.

CHAPTER 9

S.t.a.l.k.e.r

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